Philadelphia calling!

That is the last address I have of my Maldivian friend RashidaDidi. Heaven knows where she is now. As teachers working in a school at the Islands, she and I were thick as thieves. Rashidawould often grace our dinner table where we would engage in carefree conversations. 

I first went to the Maldivian Island as a French teacher with recommendation from Alliance Francaise teachers' in Dhaka. And this helped me immensely. The person taking the interview just asked "Why didn't you say you were staying at George's house?" And thus I joined the club.

Rashida was educated in Sri Lanka and then in Australia. Rumour had it that she had an affair with a foreigner and as far as the men were concerned, she was off limits. 

The food we shared was often brought from Sri Lanka. Nothing grew on the island,as such, except chicken and eggs. But we spent happy times. Our other Sri Lankan friends would often serve ribbon sandwiches at their parties and danced the 'Baila!'

We stacked up our refrigerators with fresh fish from the market. Fish was aplenty in the Island. Cooking, however, was never my forte. I could barely make soup, and boil chicken and with time learned how to make chicken and vegetable mixture. But my late husband was a culinary genius, his specialty being the exquisite roasts made either from lamb leg or fowls. And whenever something special was on the menu, Rashida was always invited, often as the chief guest. 

I would spend holidays at Rashida's house regaled by details of old Indian songs, and details of decorations in the house. The food was invariably good as she had a trained cook to do it. The cook was sent by one of her brothers, a minister of the land. 

Rashidaonce took me to their mosque, where I was introduced as a fellow believer, and so allowed to enter. There was a mosque just for women on one of the islands which we frequently visited.

Once a day, once a month, we had to bring food from the house duringbreak time and this is where Rashida was a great help. Although George invariably helped, so did Rashida. She helped me to participate at the school functions too.

And so my days went on until it was the day to go and we had to pack our stuff for good or for worse. Before that there were pictures on the TV and we were the guests of the president. I put on my fancy clothesand my gold bangles for the occasion. It was a rare treat. 

I miss Rashida and wonder where she is now. Somewhere in Philadelphia I heard. Hope she is just the same, so many years later.

By Fayza Haq